


for when you're lonely

by nittygritty



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Mutual Pining, Past Niall Horan/Zayn Malik, Poor Life Choices, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a bespectacled niall, and harry being the slowest talker on planet earth, and niam is real, featuring all my favorite things, though tbh i should tag niam and larry in this bc wow friendship is so important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nittygritty/pseuds/nittygritty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry just wants to find his soulmate, Niall just wants to forget all about ever finding his, and their best friends have no idea what they want.</p><p>(Because in my mind Team Single Pringle doesn't know it, but they're really just waiting for each other.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Would You Fall, Too?

**Author's Note:**

> Given the time of year, I suppose writing this sappy ass fic is seasonally appropriate. 
> 
> I started writing this super self-indulgent fic in my iPhone notes during a sleepless night. As it's all probably going to be (lovingly) written at some ungodly hour of the morning, and completely un-beta'd, forgive me of my grammatical and syntactical sins for the time being. 
> 
> Title taken from "If I Could Fly." Heart taken by One Direction (who of course I do not own, except for these figments of my imagination. and who probably owns me, tbh.)
> 
> For those of you who love, want love, want love and don't know where the fuck to find it - this is for you, and I hope *it* finds *you*. x

Harry knows that the odds are slim that anyone is ever _really_  going to read these. (He's not as naive as most people tend to think.)

But that doesn't stop him from writing them.

Sitting down in the narrow aisles between poetry and drama, sometimes visual art and music, even philosophy and religion, Harry will leaf through the pages of one book (or three), looking for something that feels big. Something that when he reads it, or sees it, makes him feel as if the whole bottom of his world has come out from under him in a single shake. Something so earth-shatteringly simple, or intricately beautiful, that it feels like it's made its way from some person's mind, out into the universe, and into his hands by way of some sort of work of fate. Just for him. And when he gets this feeling, Harry always tries to pass it on.

Not back to just anyone. Although, if someone likes them, he supposes that's fine. No. Harry scribbles these feelings away into notes and puts them back where he's found them in the hopes that in a similar, yet Highly Unlikely Moment Designed By The Universe, his soulmate will come across one of them, and maybe feel a bit like Harry does. Like he's right on the edge of something big. Something great. In hopes that maybe his soulmate will find one of these notes, and find their way right to Harry. 

Sure, it wasn't the most probable thing. And maybe not the most practical way to go about finding your soulmate. Harry knew that. But to be fair, wasn't the idea of soulmates already a bit far-fetched and fantastical? Everyone has always taken it for granted, because things have never been any different: history books have pre-destiny marks going as far back as the Egyptian pyramids do. All the same, Harry can't help but be a bit in awe over the fact that soulmates are real, that everyone has one, that most of the time they even _find_ them. It seems like too big a thing to take for granted. Too precious of a gift. And Harry believes that gratitude should be a guiding force in his life. In everyone's life, really. And he doesn't want to take the person he's going to spend the rest of his life with for granted before he ever even meets them. That's poor form altogether. 

So, Harry writes notes that are sometimes long, sometimes short - and presses them into the pages where he has felt the feeling he is sure he'll feel when he meets his soulmate. Today, as he stares at a photo of harsh, jagged, cliff giving way to the smoothest, bluest, body of water he's ever seen, he thinks about how waiting for your soulmate to show up is like always living on a precipice. Hanging in the balance, waiting for the other shoe to drop. To fall. He pulls his pen from between his lips, and scrawls one of his favorite lyrics on a bit of paper:

_would you fall, too?_

Folding it in two, Harry tucks it right into the seam of the book, closing it softly, before slipping it back into the empty space it belonged in. 

  
_Sigh_. He literally couldn't _not_ think in soulmate metaphor.

Oh, well. He'd wait as long as it took for whoever the person was to meet him right over the edge, where it would all make sense. Leaving behind a muddied, rocky world where nothing makes sense, and diving into a pool of clarity, transparence, understanding - that had to be what falling in love with your soulmate was like. 

And Harry had taken that leap ages ago.

He just hoped that whoever it was would hurry it up a bit to meet him at the bottom of it. 

He let his eyes close and his thoughts drift. That was a thing, right? The more you thought about having something, the more likely you were to get it? He knew he read that somewhere once...

"HAROLD!!!" _Fuck_ , Harry thinks, jolting awake and nearly falling forward on his face.

"What are you, MI6? Been looking bloody everywhere for you! It's not like this is Senate House. You're tall as..." Louis gestures wildly in an upward direction, clearly at a loss at naming any object whatsoever that was comparable in height to Harry.   

"You know what I mean! I don't know how you manage to go so incognito." Louis' voice is full of equal parts contempt and admiration. Harry shakes his head.

"Lots of practice, Louis. Are you ready to go?" Louis wasn't exactly what Harry was asking the universe for just then (or ever), but Harry is glad that he was given Louis for his best mate, because he would've never known to ask. For as long as they'd known one another, Louis Tomlinson had been one of the funniest, rudest, cleverest people Harry had ever met. The perfect mix of caring and carefree, Louis moved around everywhere like he was simply meant to be there. Like he owned the entire world. Sure, he could be a bit over the top on occasion, but that's what made everyone fall in love with him in the first place. Harry was no exception. From the moment Louis tumbled into Harry's life (quite literally), it was evident that he was there to stay, and that Harry had no choice in the matter. What's worse, he didn't want one. In his own words, Louis "might not be his _soul-_ mate, but was _most definitely_ his soulmate." Harry never had half a mind to disagree. Even if they weren't soulmates, like they originally thought, Harry was still one hundred percent grateful that he got to have Louis around forever, anyway.

"I think I've had a few greys come in waiting on you to finish making out love notes like some creeper teenaged Casanova. Honestly." Louis picks at a few wayward strands of his hair for dramatic effect, and Harry has to bite back a fond smile while shaking his head. 

"Not teenagers anymore. Not love notes. And not creepy. It's -" Louis cuts him off with a tug of the hand, pulling Harry up and out of his little corner of the bookshop. (And simultaneously out of peace and happiness.)

"Yes, Harry- emotional connectivity, bridging the gap of destiny, I'm aware. Giving fate a hand. All that. But _my_ emotions are connected to my stomach. And I'd like to bridge a gap between myself and the tea which Destiny will inevitably set out for me back at our flat. If you could be so kind as to assist me on my journey..." 

"Me. I'll be the one setting out tea. It doesn't just magically appear, Lou." Harry suppresses an eye roll that he knows he inherited from Louis somewhere along the way. 

"Well, best get your skates on then, dear Harold!" Louis replies cheerily, completely ignoring Harry's flat tone as he shoves him out of the bookshop and onto the pavement. Harry lets Louis practically drag him in the direction of their nearly too-small flat, and back into the real world. Where the grandmas tut at them as they fly down the street, and strangers make no attempt at covering up their staring at whatever antics Louis (and therefore, Harry) is up to that day. Harry lives a life in which he's got a job he loves, and family and friends that love him, even if it's not in that devastating way he's been waiting forever for. 

Bringing his right hand up to his shoulder, and placing it where he knows his mark to be, Harry briefly wonders if he's crazy to ask for anything more. 

But that doesn't stop him wanting it, all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter, and the lyric in Harry's note, comes from the song "Fall" by Ed Sheeran. Which is amazing.


	2. It's Not The End of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would have told me a week ago that the common cold would make me write til I dropped, I wouldn't have believed you. As it is, here's chapter two a day early, just for you.

Niall _really_ doesn’t want to be here.

That is about the nicest way he can put it, he thinks. It’s not that Niall doesn’t like to read, or that he hates bookshops. He just hates _this_ bookshop. This one in particular. And the only reason he would even go anywhere near it is busy pulling about every music production volume they have off the shelves. Liam, bless him, makes his mind up about one thing or another and gets so excited that it’s impossible to get upset at him. He’s decided that he needs to “go back to basics and really take his songwriting to the next level,” and Niall can’t deny him anything (although he did kindly remind Liam of that little thing called Google before they left out). So, he’s standing around looking every bit of an idiot while Liam is off looking for…whatever.

Niall is still angry, is the thing. But not at Liam (never at Liam). No, his asshole ex is why he’s pissed off. Because Roxy’s was actually _his_ place first. One of his mates, Jade, worked in the café when they were in uni together, and he used to always come in with Liam and pretend to study just for the free cakes she’d sneak him when the boss’ back was turned. That was, until Niall walked in late from class one day to find that Liam had met Zayn. Zayn, with his beautiful brown eyes, and his perfectly sculpted cheekbones, and that ridiculous tongue-between-his-teeth smile when he –

Anyway, long and short of it is, Niall used to come here all the time for tea and pastries and friends and studying, then he just came here for Zayn. To look at Zayn. Laugh at Zayn. Be read to by Zayn. Be inappropriately felt up in public by Zayn. Be with Zayn. And now Zayn is gone. It’s been nearly a year since Niall’s been in here, and Roxy’s isn’t his place anymore. Can’t be. Not when it’s haunted by the (ridiculously fit) ghost of Zayn Malik everywhere he fuckin’ turns.

Once upon a time, Liam pointed out that following such logic, Niall ought to just move out of London all together.   


 

He’s deeply considered the notion.

 

Until then, Niall is determined to suffer with at least a shred of dignity. So, he grabs some book on rock and roll that’s more pictures than words, and finds a corner to disappear in. He figures that he’ll flip through this thing until Liam comes to spring him from his prison. And he does, stopping on all his favorites: The Eagles, The Doors, The Rolling Stones – christ, if Niall ever met Mick Jagger in the 60s he’d have done terrible, unspeakable things – until he gets to the section on Fleetwood Mac (aka The Biggest Bunch of Legends in the World). He actually sets out to read the entire section, because Stevie, Mick, Lindsey, Christine, and John deserve respect, but when he turns the page, there’s an old bookmark in the way.

“This isn’t the library, you know! S’pose somebody buys it, what are you gonna do, then?” Niall says to the person long-gone, sliding the piece of paper out of his way, as he keeps reading. Flipping the page and finding the scrap still sitting in his hand, Niall flips it round to inspect it before chucking it.

_“All these years later, we are still writing songs that are dialogues for each other.”_

Huh. That’s – that’s something. And Niall has no idea what. So, unlike our poor Liam, he whips out his phone to consult his other lifelong friend and confidant, Google.

“Buckingham/Nicks fan, huh?” Niall looks back down at the thin, loopy scrawl, addressing it.

“Too bad they treated each other like shite then, innit?” _Right, because that’s not bitter at all, Nialler. Ruining this poor person’s moment ‘cuz you can’t get yerself together. It’s actually sort of sweet. Don’t be a prick._ It’s the first time Niall’s thought about the fact that he’s maybe a little bitter. Okay, very fucking bitter. Well, he’s thought about it, but he hasn’t used that word. That’s because he never really had a reason to associate it with himself before. Everyone is always “Niall is so carefree. Niall is such a laugh. Niall is always so happy.” And he _is_. Well, he was. Before he let his ex-boyfriend turn him into some sorry muppet, while he was probably off having a laugh somewhere, thinking nothing of it. Of Niall himself.

“Top form, Niall. Deadly.” Niall lets his head thunk against the wall, generally mourning the state of his life, and wondering why Liam hadn’t come yet to save him from his misery. That was his job, after all. Lately, anyway. Usually, it was Niall pulling Liam out of some sulk or another. That was the kind of person Niall was. Who he was supposed to be.

_Yeah, you know what? You’re better than all this. It’s a stupid shop, and a stupid boy. It’s not the end of the world. Be better. Do better._

Niall looks back down at the piece of paper. He didn’t need anyone else to write songs about. Zayn wasn’t his soulmate, and so god knows why Niall even let him talk him into it in the first place, but he fell for it, and Zayn’s mark came in – late, ridiculously late, and he didn’t match with Niall, and that was fine – perfectly fine. Niall didn’t need a soulmate. And he certainly didn’t want to be Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham. Together when they weren’t supposed to be and still blathering in the papers about it, all these years later. That’s exactly what he and Zayn would have been like. Nothing like they should’ve been. _Could have been? Whatever._   

Niall didn’t need Zayn, but he also didn’t need a soulmate at all in order to be happy. He was happy before. He could be happy again. He just had to put all of these things behind him, and put the thought of finding his soulmate out of his mind.

He could do that, right?

Niall climbed to his feet, shutting the book, and sticking the note he’d found in his back pocket.

If Liam hadn’t found what he was after by now, he’d have to do it another day. Dealing with emotions was a nasty business, and the only feeling Niall had left was hunger.

He turns it into a song on his way to find Liam.

“Liam, mate, have you reached songwriting nirvana yet? I could go for a burger or six, like.” Niall claps a hand on Liam’s back, and the poor lad nearly jumps out of his skin.

 “No, Niall. I haven’t. There’s so much to pick from. How do you know which one’s best?” Liam has got a pile of books around him it’s like a tiny island.

“Well, you could consult a professional on the matter.”

“What?! Who do you know? Ni, you should’ve said-”

“Google, Liam. I know Google. And for the small price of 0p you could too, you know mate. She’s top tier, I swear by it.” Liam frowns up at Niall, thoroughly unimpressed and slightly confused.

“Funny man today, are we? Regular Alan Carr.”

“I’ve my moments.” Niall shrugs, running a hand through his hair with a light, blasé attitude he hasn’t felt in months. He could get used to this.

“What has gotten into you? You drag your feet all the way here, I mean – being properly mardy til we get in the door  - and now you’re…different. What’s happened?” Liam raises one of his wonky eyebrows in question, standing up and starting to replace all the books he’s pulled down.

“Liam, Liam…my son. Since we’ve been here _everything_ has happened.” Liam turns around and his eyebrow is that much higher, and Niall just barely smothers a laugh. He starts ticking things off on his fingers in a way he knows will make Liam just the right amount of annoyed.

“Let’s see, what have I done? I’ve done loads of research on human sexuality, 70s rock group dynamics, I’ve dabbled in handwriting studies, I’ve decided I don’t need a soulmate, just on the way over here alone I’ve written a song…”

Liam freezes, belatedly. Niall thought he’d gotten away with it. _Sigh._ Most of the time, Liam is one of Niall’s best mates. On the rare off day, he also doubles as Niall’s third (mostly unnecessary) parent. Today is clearly one of those days.

“What do you mean, Niall, you don’t need a soulmate? Don’t be silly.”

“Meant just what I said, innit?” Niall starts slowly moving toward the stairs, or they’ll be here all day, and he really is hungry.

“No, Niall. You’ve got a pre-destiny mark for a reason. Just because Zayn-” Niall flinches for half a second and Liam pauses, too. Like he’s felt the same exact squeeze in his chest that Niall does. They stop talking for a moment, taking a few steps out of the door before Liam continues on.

“Look, just because it turned out that it wasn’t _him_ , doesn’t mean your soulmate isn’t out there. You got that mark for a reason. Something- _someone_ better is going to come along, and it’s going to be better than you could’ve imagined. It’s literally pre-destined. You’ve just got to give it time, Ni.” Liam is trailing behind Niall, who heaves a big sigh before turning around to face his best mate in the universe. He might not have a soulmate, but the fuckin’ universe or cosmos or destiny or whatever gave him Liam – he’s not going to cock that up for anything. Things passing how they’ve come to pass, Liam Payne is the best thing to happen to him since Maura and Bobby. He’d be an idiot to act any different. He puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder and moves them off to the side, reminding himself to pull it together before he opens his mouth.

“Liam. My dearest Liam. Sometimes these things work out, and sometimes they don’t. Most people find their soulmates, some don’t. Some people just don’t have one, and that’s okay. Maybe something happened, I don’t know. Maybe my mark was a mistake, maybe Zayn was my soulmate and fate changed its mind and decided to have a bit of a laugh – I don’t know. Zayn was as close to an open book as I’m ever going to find. He knew everything about me, and I knew everything about him. Except that he wasn’t meant for me to keep.” At this, Liam looks down, and maybe a bit like he wants to cry.

Sometimes, Niall forgets that Liam sort of went through his break-up, too. Zayn was equally special to Liam, just in a different way, and when it all happened, Liam being as loyal as ever, never stirred from Niall’s side for a second. Niall got to keep Liam, but Liam also lost Zayn. And Niall was going to be making that up to him for ages, because he knew just how big of a loss it was to take.

“Listen, all I’m saying is that I’ve given all this stuff a rest, for now. I’ve put it to bed. And honestly, I probably couldn’t have done it unless you dragged me back here. I’ve been a bit of a knob lately, and I think I really needed to make this trip so that I could see past me own two feet. So, thank you for being the best best mate ever, and making great choices when I make shit ones.” Liam smiled the crinkly-eyed smile that usually comes with praise and pride. It somehow always made Niall sport a matching one.

“Alright, my son?” Liam rolled his eyes at the name.

“Alright, yeah. And I’ll leave off it…for now.” Niall shakes his head with a laugh. Liam was always such a romantic.

“Beautiful! Now, what I _really_ need is that cheeseburger you owe me and since we’ve been here such a good long while, the offer has tacked on some extra…I’m thinking two burgers and half your fries.”

“ _My_ fries, why not your own? I could just get you your own. You could get yourself your own!”

“My poor son, everybody knows that the next person’s just taste better. Like how the ones at the bottom of the bag are better than the ones in the cup.”

“Will you _stop_ calling me that? I’m older than you are!”

“Semantics, Liam!” They go off and end up where Niall always ends up – McDonalds. And by the time Niall gets home and is ready to strip off, he feels better than he has in donkey’s years.

Now that the whole matter of his soulmate is off the table, Niall feels free. Freer than ever. Like he could do and be whomever he wants. Go wherever he wants. Maybe even delete that Craigslist advert he’d written up looking for a new place to live.

He could stay in London. He could do this. Soulmates weren’t everything.

Unbuttoning his jeans and emptying his pockets of coins and keys, Niall comes across that silly note he’d found at Roxy’s.

_…still writing songs that are dialogues for each other._

Niall didn’t need anyone to write anything for him. He was perfectly capable of speaking for himself. And to be fair, he knows his way around a guitar better than most lads his age. Shrugging to nobody but himself, Niall throws the paper onto his desk with all his other things, and thinks nothing of it.

Weeks later, while he’s watching old episodes of Bake Off instead of actually getting up to eat, he finds the worn out scrap lying next to the bin.

Without giving it a second thought, he sticks the piece of paper in one of the notebooks he uses to write in, thinking that it can’t fall down from there.  

And if Niall has Fleetwood’s “Don’t Stop” stuck in his head for the rest of the week, well…that’s got nothing to do with anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there go our main players! All that's left is for someone to make a move. Soon, soon. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and making comments. In the words of Fleetwood Mac - you make loving fun. x


End file.
